


Living it up in the city

by doctorcakeray



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Asexual Character, Asexual Relationship, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-13
Updated: 2015-05-13
Packaged: 2018-03-30 08:31:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3930055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doctorcakeray/pseuds/doctorcakeray
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Karen Page, asexual but not aromantic, loves fierce and bright and true.  She didn't expect to love meat grinder Marci Stahl, but Karen slowly discovers the warm blooded human being beneath the cool shark skin exterior.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Living it up in the city

**Author's Note:**

> written for the Daredevil Kink Meme https://daredevilkink.dreamwidth.org/725.html?thread=146645#cmt146645

Marci starts joining them for drinks once in a blue moon. Maybe, Karen thinks, each snake skin can only touch the filthy bar top once, and Marci has to wait for her next molting season before gracing them with her presence again.

Not that Marci doesn’t seem to genuinely like Foggy and Matt beneath the glossy veneer. For all the vitriol, they graduated from Columbia law in the same class and that kind of self imposed hell forms intangible bonds. Not that Karen’s jealous. It’s just that she’s formed a handful of bonds since she came to the city, and she’s watched two of those lower down into the cold, hard earth.

She learns fast with Foggy and Matt, reading up on penal code during slow hours, and they always make her feel welcome. Still, when Marci and Matt joke about their Civil Procedure professor, Karen aches for something she will never have. As Karen hooks arms with Foggy to down whiskey shots, she thinks, though, having drunk the eel is probably its own circle.

Marci curls back her upper lip as Foggy and Karen slam down their glasses, sighing loud enough for Matt to hear.

“What?” Matt asks. “Still upset you can’t order Sex on the Beach here?”

“You wouldn’t know a good drink if someone placed it right in your grubby mitts, Murdock,” Marci replies evenly.

As Matt faux-clutches his heart with one hand, Karen asks, “Why would someone name a cocktail ‘Sex on the Beach?’ That sounds uncomfortable.”

Marci gasps delicately. “Have you ever even sipped a proper cocktail?” Karen shrugs lethargically. “Oh honey, you poor thing. You, me, a jazz lounge, tomorrow night.”

“Are we all invited?” Foggy pipes in.

“No,” Marci says curtly. “Just girls.” Foggy pouts.

“I didn’t even say I would go,” Karen says.

“I’m buying,” Marci says.

“Oh,” Karen says. “Alright then.”

 

The next day, around lunch, Foggy calls loudly from his office, “Matt, I can’t believe Marci is taking Karen on a date tonight.” Matt laughs.

“I am literally between the two of you,” Karen says. “Foggy, I can hear you better than Matt can. And it’s not a date. What would make it a date? Is it a date when you invite Matt to drink? You took me out for drinks and it wasn’t a date.”

“Uh,” Foggy says.

“Foggy,” Matt says, “It’s like you ask for women to bust your ass.”

“Beautiful blonde women, Matt,” Foggy moans. “Oh no, what if they get along?”

Karen snorts. “Me and the meat grinder? Please. I just hope I can get drunk on cocktails fast enough to make her bearable.”

Simultaneously, Matt and Foggy crack up. In between stuttering inhales Matt says, “I think Marci was right, this may be educational for you.”

 

During her third cocktail Marci asks, “So, what do you think?”

They’d traded a couple embarrassing stories about Matt and Foggy to start, and the then Marci had begun on her childhood, pausing while they listened to the soothing tones. Karen half smiles. “These all mostly taste fruity to me.”

“Ah, well, at least it’s fruit that gets you tipsy. More of those pastry hors d’oeuvres?”

“Yes, definitely.” Karen gently lifts a couple before settling back into her velvet cushioned chair.

Three cocktails later, Karen blurts out, “I hope you still respect me and don’t think I’m uncultured.” The tiny paper umbrella in her glass is extremely fascinating. She wonders if she could pick her teeth with it. The vodka to fruit ratio of most cocktails may have been higher than she anticipated.

Marci giggles. “If I didn’t respect you, I wouldn’t have brought you to my favorite club.”

Karen cheers instantly. “Oh good. I think I need a mint.”

Marci giggles harder.

 

As they go to flag down a cab, Marci asks, “Where do you live?”

“I hate my apartment,” Karen says instead of answering.

“Come home with me then.”

Karen hesitates. “I don’t want to have sex.”

“That’s fine. You can still spend the night, my bed’s plenty big enough.”

Karen gets in the cab. Marci’s bed is, indeed, quite large, comfortable, and pink. It looks and smells so different from her own place that she forgets to check for blood stains on the carpet. She sleeps better than she has in months.

Marci greets her in the morning with oatmeal, sliced fruit, OJ, and a midol. Karen groans her relief. They eat together with the news playing on low volume. When Karen feels a bit more human she finger combs out her hair and attempts to straighten her dress. Marci looks at her appraisingly, says “you can borrow something of mine,” and is gone and back by the time Karen says, “Wait, that’s not—”

“This is a little tight on me, it should look excellent on you,” Marci says, draping fabric over Karen’s arm. Marci gets the zipper for her, and then tuts approvingly.

 

“I thought you didn’t own any clothes that weren’t grey,” Foggy says by way of greeting when Karen reaches the office.

“That’s not true,” Karen shots automatically, then pauses to think. “I own that navy blouse/skirt combo and that burgundy coat.”

“Okay, sure, but that dress is hunter green. Nice addition, by the way.”

“Thanks,” Karen says while attempting to bury herself in paperwork.

“No points for noticing?” Karen can hear the frown in Foggy’s voice.

“Maybe next time you notice, buddy, if you can manage to notice more politely,” Matt pipes in. “What is ‘hunter green’ anyway?”

“It’s just dark green,” Karen says.

“Why didn’t Foggy just say ‘dark green’ then?”

“You two are the worst,” Foggy says, “I’m going to close my door and pout now.”

 

“You text my employee all day,” Foggy says from underneath Marci’s overstuffed pink comforter. “Don’t think I don’t know.”

“Uh-huh,” Marci says, shimming into a pair of pajamas.

“What, we aren’t going to sleep naked?”

“Nuh-uh, Foggy Bear.” She pets his head. “You’re going home. Karen’s coming over in twenty to do manicures and eat ice cream.”

“If I let you paint my nails can I stay?”

“No.”

“You only want meet for my body and your carnal desires.”

“Glad you understand.”

 

Over half a pint of Cherry Garcia, Marci asks, “Are you not interested in sex with women, or me, or just not interested in sex?”

Karen shrugs, “Just not interested in sex, I’m pretty sure.”

“That’s fine.”

“I know,” Karen grins. She picks up a little glass bottle. “I really like this shade of purple.”

“Ooooh, that’s a good one. It’ll look great with your complexion.”

In the morning, Marci braids Karen’s hair.

 

Karen starts volunteer coaching with a wheelchair basketball team. When they have an all day fundraiser, Marci asks if she can participate in any way that won’t risk breaking a nail. In addition, Marci plans matching pink sportswear outfits for them.

Marci invites Karen to go see Legally Blonde the Musical on Broadway. Karen voices that they are either breaking or enforcing some stereotype, then holds Marci’s hand the entire play.

 

A year later, after Karen and Marci have been officially living together for three months, Foggy says, “I call dibs on maid of honor over Matt.”

Karen tilts her head, “Even knowing what Marci might make you wear?”

Foggy swallows, then nods.

 

Marci and Karen name their first dog Elle Woods.


End file.
